


Nothing Left

by MysticPuma



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game), Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Child Neglect, Childhood Trauma, Gen, Origin Story, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 23:18:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15873747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysticPuma/pseuds/MysticPuma
Summary: “I met him, fifteen years ago. I was told there was nothing left; no reason, no conscience, no understanding; and even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, of good or evil, right or wrong. I met this six-year-old child with this blank, pale, emotionless face, and the blackest eyes... the devil's eyes. I spent eight years trying to reach him, and then another seven trying to keep him locked up because I realized that what was living behind that boy's eyes was purely and simply... evil.” – Dr. LoomisHow did a six year old become a murderer? What caused Michael Myers to kill his sister that fateful night? Perhaps there is more to his backstory than just a boy that went insane… Perhaps something supernatural.(Or how the entity drained a six year old of everything human by bringing him into the survival game.)





	Nothing Left

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this post on the DBD subreddit (Yeah, this one's been sitting around on my hard-drive for a while XD): https://www.reddit.com/r/deadbydaylight/comments/74m1ph/lore_how_survivors_become_killers/

The night feels oddly still as Michael steps out onto the porch. Judith has invited her boyfriend over and decided to ignore their parents’ request that she take him out trick-or-treating, since they didn’t want him to go alone and they had a party to go to. With a sigh, Michael trudges his way down the steps at the front of the house.

He doesn't see why he isn't supposed to go alone, there are plenty of other kids out trick-or-treating without their parents. One group of such children rushes up to the house across the street. Is it because they're in groups? A pout settles on the young boy’s face as he kicks at a tuft of grass.

_Stupid Judith and her stupid boyfriend…_ He thinks, wandering onto the lawn. He won't leave the front yard, he knew better than to not listen to his parents, but he doesn't want to stay inside. It was only a matter of time before those weird noises started that always seem to happen when Judith and her boyfriend are alone and Michael doesn't like those noises.

The children across the street whoop as they run away from the house, weighed down with even more candy. Michael turns away from the street, feeling tears prick at his eyes. He rubs at them furiously. He isn't going to cry; he is a big boy and big boys didn’t cry. That’s what his Father tells him anyway.

When he opens his eyes again though, he grows confused. He's meant to be looking at the house… right? He turns, searching for the familiar white cladding, but it's gone. All around him all he can see are dark looming trees and a strange mist.

Slowly his ears begin to pick up what sound like voices. Maybe they know where his house went…

Carefully, Michael begins to clamber through the foliage towards the voices, his confusion only growing. He’d been stood on the lawn in his front yard, so why all of a sudden iss he in a forest where the floor is covered in twigs and dead leaves?

As he progresses, he begins to be able to make out what the voices are saying.

“So you’ve been here a while then?” a female voice asks.

“Yeah, not sure how long though… There isn’t really any way to measure the time in this place.” A male voice replies. He sounds tired. “There are others that’ve been here with me for a long time, but I don’t see much of them anymore… Not sure how long they have left, if I’m honest.”

“How long they have left?” Another male, younger sounding, nervous.

“You remember the monster chasing you? He used to be like us.”

“Wait… that _thing_ used to be human?” The woman exclaims.

“His name was Philip… He was a good man…” Sadness has clouded the man’s voice and the others stay quiet in comtemplation.

Finally, Michael breaks through the trees and tumbles out into a clearing, a soft ‘oof’ escaping him as he hits the floor.

“Oh my god! Are you okay?” The female voice from before calls out to him, and he looks up to see a ginger woman bending down to him. She picks him up and brushes him off, but Michael is too busy noticing that one of the men behind her is staring at him, a mixture of fear and disbelief in his eyes.

“A child…?” He whispers, confirming that he is the tired sounding man. Michael tilts his head in confusion. “It brought… a child…?”

“You’re not hurt, are you?” The lady questions, bringing Michael’s attention back to her. He shakes his head. “Good. Come on, come and sit by the campfire…” Gently, she takes hold of his hand and guids him over to a large crackling camp fire. The young man, who has glasses, pats a space next to him on a log, offering Michael a warm smile. Carefully, Michael perches himself next to him. He looks up to the older man again to see him frantically scribbling in a tattered book. The woman casts him a concerned look, but returns her attention to the child before her.

“My name is Meg. What’s yours?”

“Michael…” he mutters quietly, suddenly aware that he's sat with three complete strangers. His Mother wouldn’t like him talking to strangers… But he is lost, so he supposes it ought to be okay.

“Hi there Michael, I’m Dwight.” Says the younger man. “The guy with the book is Benedict.”

“H-hi…”

“Michael, how old are you?” Benedict suddenly shouts. Michael stares at him, cocking his head to the side again.

“I’m six.”

“Six… Six… Is that significant? It has to be… Or maybe its not… Does it matter?” Benedict begins to murmur to himself as he returns to his frantic writings and Michael inches a little closer to Dwight.

Suddenly, he remembers that he needed to find his house. “Um… Do you know where my house went?” He asks. “I was stood on my lawn… and then I was in that forest… Where did my house go?” Meg gulps, looking over Michael’s head at Dwight. Michael spins around to look at the man, who has brought one hand up to his mouth and appears to be biting at his nails.

Dwight takes a deep breath, returning his hand to his lap. “Your house didn’t go anywhere, Michael. It’s exactly where you left it… You’re the one who disappeared.”

“But… But I didn’t go anywhere…”

“What Dwight is trying to say is that you were taken away from your house and put here.”

Michael stands up. “But that doesn't make sense! Nobody came over to me, I don't normally talk to strangers. I'm a good boy!” Meg and Dwight exchange a pained look at the exclamation.

“We're not saying you're not, Michael...” Dwight sooths. “This wasn't your fault. The same thing happened to us.” He neglects to mention the part about him being black out drunk when he'd been taken... That wasn't important.

“But both of you were taken from the woods.” Benedict mutters, loud enough to be heard though it is clear he isn't really talking _to_ them. “Most are taken from the woods... How did it get a small boy who was stood in front of his house?”

“What's... it? What took me away? Why did it? I... I wanna go home.” Tears have begun to well in the small boy's eyes, and Meg gulps.

“We don't really... know.” She mutters sadly. Michael begins to sob. As he does though, the campfire begins to glow.

“It's starting. There are four of us.” Benedict announces, suddenly lucid again.

“What!? But Michael's just a child!” Meg exclaims. “Surely it can't-”

But before she can finish her sentence, the smoke of the campfire spreads out to engulf them, swallowing her words. When the smoke clears, Michael is alone at the edge of a cornfield. He clutches at his clown costume, fat tears still rolling down his cheeks. Everything is quiet, and the whole place feels undeniably _wrong_.

Despite this, Michael notices a battered looking house not too far away. Houses meant people. Maybe the nice people from the campfire are there, but even if it isn't them Michael didn't really mind at that point. He just wants to go home.

His heart sinks as he neared the house, realising too late that it has been long abandoned. Still, he wanders in, holding onto a sliver of hope that maybe someone else would be in the house. He lets out a surprised gasp as he heard a machine whirring to life from upstairs. Carefully, he makes his way up and finds Meg bent next to an odd contraption. He tilts his head in confusion, making his way over to the woman and prodding her arm to get her attention.

She jumps, her hands pulling sharply back as the machine stutters. Michael steps back and stares wide-eyes at the shaking metal box.

“What the he- Michael!” Meg whispers, all annoyance seeming to have melted away at the sight of the boy unharmed. Her head whips around at the sound of a chainsaw revving up in the distance. “We can't stay here, he'll come to check what the noise was. Keep quiet and stay close to me, okay?”

Michael nods, not that he understands why the nice lady seems so scared. She looks all about her as she leads him from the house, keeping him tucked behind her. They make their way away from the house swiftly and into the corn-field, where Michael is surprised to see another of the odd machines.

Meg kneels down before it and begins to fiddle with the wires inside. “You keep watch, okay? If you see a tall, ugly man with a chainsaw, tell me.” Michael nods vigorously, still not fully understanding what's happening. But if Meg doesn't like the tall chainsaw man, Michael can't imagine he's very nice.

In the distance, Michael hears a scream and his body goes rigid. He looks around frantically, and is surprised to see the glowing, red outline of a man through the corn. He blinks in confusion as the silhouette seems to float upwards, then fades from his view. His muscles begin to untense when another scream rips through the air and the outline re-appears, this time suspended from what appears to be a large hook.

Meg looks up briefly from her work to see the outline, but continues after taking a steadying breath.

Michael bites his lip at the sound of the chainsaw revving up again. This time, though, it grows closer to them. Too close. Michael's heart-beat hammers in his ears as he frantically searches the corn-field for the wielder of the noisy weapon.

He notices movement behind the machine Meg was working on, and his eyes widen as he sees the figure raising the chainsaw again.

“M-meg!” the boy stammers, and his companion looks up just in time to see the Hillbilly charging for her. She dives out of the way, grabbing Michael's hand and tearing through the field.

Tears begin to drip from Michael's eyes as fear grips him. Why is this man chasing them? Why does he seem so angry? Would he ever see his family again? The questions fly through his mind as fast as he flies through the corn, though his little legs mean that he struggles to keep up with Meg. He keeps tripping and in those moments his feet seem to leave the ground, Meg's hold on his tiny hand never loosening, for which he is incredibly grateful.

Before he knows it, the corn has vanished, and they are running towards what appear to be a bunch of wooden fences. Meg picks him up suddenly, throwing him through a gap in one such fence, before vaulting through herself and grabbing his hand again, leaving him no time to figure out what was happening.

He looks down briefly to see a strange red glow beneath him, not that he can look at it for long because no sooner has he done so than a blinding pain tears through him, the point of origin seeming to be the back of his head. He cries out in pain, and Meg's eyes widen in horror as she looks back at the child. The tears that had been dripping one at a time down his cheeks now turn to waterfalls as he stumbles, Meg's steadying hand the only thing keeping him from falling to the ground.

But his continued trips and falls make him a rock tied to her arm, and her usually quick pace is slowed significantly. She wants to protect him, but she doesn't know how. His crying is loud, so he'd be found almost immediately if she tried to hide him, and she's certain he doesn't fully understand what is happening. They've been put into this 'game' with a severe handicap, and she knows somehow that this time she won't be winning.

She stumbles as her mind thinks back to the first time she was 'sacrificed', and a shudder runs through her even as she runs. She'd been part of three 'games' before this, and that had been the only time so far nobody had managed to save her from the entity, and it left her feeling cold and empty. God, she didn't want Michael to have to go through that.

Hope alights in her as she hears a generator whir to life in the distance. Perhaps at least the hatch would appear and she could buy time for him to find it...

The hope is dashed the moment she gains it though, as another ear-splitting scream rings out behind her and his tiny hand slips from her grasp. She turns to see the little boy sprawled across the floor, blood pouring from his head.

Her eyes met the dark orbs of the Hillbilly, and he snarls at her, daring her to stay. She knows that if she does, she'll wind up with a chainsaw in her back, so she sprints away, trying to ignore the nausea that settles in her stomach. If she can save Dwight from the hook, they could work together to save Michael...

The little boy, though, just sees her abandoning him. He whimpers helplessly as he feels the monstrous chainsaw man lift him up and sling him over his shoulder, watching as the nice lady disappears into the fog.

He tries to struggle free, but the monster's grip is like a vice, and his overused muscles are already screaming for him to stop. So he goes limp and watches as his tears roll off his cheeks and down the hunched back of his captor.

Then, pain. So much pain, more pain than he's ever felt in his life as a hard metal spike tears through his fragile body, and he doesn't think his voice can handle the guttural screech that rips through him. He stares down at the end of the hook with undisguised horror, his blood coating the rusty metal. _Why_? His little mind asks. _Why does it hurt so much? Why is this happening?_

He hears, he thinks, another machine jolt to life nearby, but soon after another scream pierces the air. He recognises that scream, it's the same one from the silhouette. Then, he hears another scream, feminine and shrill, and his heart nearly stops. _Meg_. He thinks, not that he thinks he should be worried about her. She ran away and left him to be put on the hook after all, but she was nice to him...

Then, he can see a figure running through the fog towards him, and he recognises the old man from the campfire. His arms raise up to lift Michael from the hook, and places him on the ground.

“Find somewhere to hide, Michael.” The man tells him, and he runs away again before Michael can find his voice to say thank you. His tiny hand hovers over the gaping hole in his chest, and he thinks he ought to be dead... He doesn't entertain the thought for long though, as his heart-beat begins to invade his ears again. He stumbles away from the hook and behind the fence-like walls, looking through a slat in order to see the monster coming straight towards him, carrying Dwight.

Michael stifles his groans of pain as much as he can, watching with helpless dread as Dwight is hoisted up and onto the hook. But no sooner has the jagged metal pierced his flesh, horrific claws materialise around him and drive themselves through his chest, before his now limp body is lifted up and into the sky.

The boy cannot help the sob of fear he lets out, though he quickly wishes he had tried harder as the monstrous chainsaw-wielder turns in his direction. Without waiting to be found, Michael bolts from his hiding place, daring not to look back as he clutches at his still-bleeding chest. He has no clue where he can possibly go; he's noticed the high brick walls that seem to trap them in this twisted maze of evil.

He finds himself dashing through the house and out back into the corn-field, hoping to lose the maniac in the chaotic mess. But the monster knows his way around, and doesn't lose a second.

It is with a creeping dread that Michael notices the red glow reappearing at his feet, and he is not surprised when he is knocked flat onto the ground seconds later. He whimpers in pain, but the creature holds no sympathy for the child, snatching him up from the ground and carrying him over to a new hook.

The pain is no less excruciating the second time, but by now Michael has no more tears to shed. He wails in agony as the disgusting man revs up his chainsaw and charges away.

A moment later, Michael finds himself facing one of the same claws that claimed Dwight just moments ago. He frantically grabs hold of it, pushing it away from his chest with all the strength he can muster, but he is only six... His arms are too small and his muscles too weak to put up any meaningful resistance, and his final scream is cut off as the claws burrow into his chest.

The last thing he is aware of as he drifts into darkness is the sight of the monster carrying Meg towards a hook.

When he regains consciousness, he feels... empty. He knows he ought to be elated that he's even alive, but all he can feel is a cloying darkness, a shadow that clings to his every sense.

Forcing his eyes open, he takes in his surroundings. He's back in the forest, heavy fog slinking between the trees, and he swears he can hear voices. Not normal voices, though. Nothing like Meg or Dwight, not even the mad ramblings of old Benedict. These voices don't seem to be speaking in any kind of coherent language and they are barely whispers. The fog dances around him, the whispers fading in and out of his ears, but somehow he finds himself standing and walking through the foliage, as though he knows where he should be going.

Soon enough, he can hear ordinary voices, and he recognises one to be Dwight, sounding incredibly panicked.

“I'm telling you the truth, dammit! There is a child in this horrid place!”

“Dwight, you need to calm down.” A female voice, but it's not Meg. Michael breaks through the leaves at last to see a dark-skinned woman sat beside Dwight at the camp-fire, though he's not sure how he found the camp-fire again.

The woman's eyes widen, and Dwight turns to see what she does, his face seeming to sag with relief as he lays eyes on the small boy. “Michael!” He cries, scrambling over to him. “Meg told me the killer got you... Are you okay?” Suddenly, Dwight realises that Michael has arrived before Meg or Benedict. “Did you... Oh god, you weren't sacrificed, were you?” He brings his hand to his mouth again and returns to biting his nails.

“The chainsaw monster put me on a hook... Meg ran away... She let him take me...” His voice is quiet. Suddenly, though, dark hands are smoothing through his hair.

“She didn't want to leave you. I know Meg, she was just trying to find help to save you.”

“She came and got me off the hook... But I got caught again. I'm sorry, I messed everything up.” Dwight worries at his lower lip. “Oh, this is Claudette.” He adds as an afterthought.

“It's nice to meet you, Michael, though I wish it was in a nicer place than this... Come on, you should come and sit by the fire.” She bustles him over. “Oh, your clown costume is all torn now... Hold on, I think I have a needle and thread from one of the med-kits.”

For his part, Michael just sits and stares into the flames. There is no pain anymore, but he can still feel the hook embedded in his chest. He can still hear Meg and Dwight's screams of pain and fear. He can still see the red glow the monster cast on him.

“Why is this happening...?” He asks nobody in particular, his voice quiet and broken. Claudette pauses in her search for the needle and thread in order to look at him, but it is Dwight that moves to crouch in front of the shaking child, taking his little hands in his own.

“We don't know. But we're going to find a way out, I promise. And then we can help you find your house, okay?”

Michael's expression doesn't shift, and Dwight's heart clenches painfully in his chest. The people he'd met here – Meg, Claudette,, Jake and Benedict – had all managed to hold onto some form of strength... But they were all adults, more or less... Poor Michael had barely experienced any of the world, that this place might become one of his most formative experiences terrified the young man.

He wonders if he can manage to distract the boy for a while. “What's your family like, Michael?”

Michael's eyes imperceptibly lighten, the image of his parents and siblings suddenly vivid in his mind. “My parents are really nice. Daddy's always working, so I don't see him very much, but Mommy plays with me a lot. She helped me pick out my halloween costume.” He gestures to the clown outfit. “My big sister Judith is okay, but she ignores me a lot lately... She spends all her time with her boyfriend... She was meant to take me trick-or-treating, but she invited him over to our house instead.”

“Wait... is that why you were outside on your own?” Dwight asks, with no small amount of horror. Michael nodded.

“Mommy and Daddy had a party to go to, so they couldn't take me...”

“Your sister just... ignored you?” Claudette finally chimes in. “That's... That's horrible.”

“She says I should be old enough to look after myself. She told me to look after Cynthia.”

“Cynthia?” Claudette questions.

“My baby sister. She's only two.” Michael rings his hands together. “Am I gonna see them again?” His gaze has fallen to his lap.

“We'll make sure of it.” Dwight says, determination shining in his eyes. But when Michael looks up at him, he doesn't see the hope that the statement should have inspired. The two adults fall silent, unsure how to reassure the poor boy, when a rustling catches their attention and someone else tumbles forth from the woods.

“Meg!” Claudette cries out, relieved to see the ginger again. “Did you...?”

“I was sacrificed...” Meg's voice is strained. “I'm alright.” Suddenly, she notices the small boy. “Michael!” She hurries over. “Are you okay?” Dwight shifts to the side to allow her in front of the child, and her stomach drops like a rock at the blank expression on his face. “I'm so sorry, Michael. I tried to come and help you, but...” Michael does not look at her. “You must be angry with me. Believe me, I didn't want to run, but if I hadn't, he'd have got me then and there...” The boy does not react. “Michael?”

“Meg, perhaps we should leave him alone for a while.” Claudette suggests. “I know I needed it after I was first sacrificed...”

“We don't have the luxury of time.” Dwight motions to the fire, and Michael's eyes widen in fear as it sputters again, smoke spilling out of it and engulfing the four.

This time, when his vision clears, he finds himself in among brick-work, the night black as pitch around him. His eyes strain as he takes in the nondescript place he's found himself. For a moment, he considers looking for one of the adults again, but the image of Meg running away flashes in his mind, and he decides he's probably better off alone.

In hopes of keeping it that way, Michael sticks close to the barbed wall this time, ignoring the large metal foundry in the distance. Eventually, he sees one of the odd machines and carefully makes his way over to it. They must be important, but he stares at the mass of metal and wires in confusion.

He opens a panel, where a tangle of wires await him. He is about to push his hands into the mess of colours when a familiar scream draws his attention, and it isn't far away.

In fact, he can already hear his heart-beat growing louder in his ears. Panic lances through him, and he searches frantically for somewhere to hide, eventually finding a large red locker. It takes all his strength to pry the door open, but soon enough he is inside, his hand clasped over his mouth to quiet his breathing.

He can't think anymore for the sound of his own blood rushing through his head as his heart-beat reaches unbearable volumes, and it takes all his control not to cry out in alarm as Meg's scream rings out from just in front of his hiding place, her prone form highlighted in silhouette through the locker doors. Fresh tears begin to drip from his eyes as she is pulled from the ground and carried away, her shrill cry piercing the night once more as she is slung onto a nearby hook.

He waits until his heart-beat has calmed before he pushes the door open again. He rounds the corner to see Meg dangling limply on the hook, and he momentarily pauses to wonder if he should try and help her. _She left me to die..._ He thinks bitterly, reminded of his neglectful older sister, but remembers that she had only done so in order to get help, even if her plan failed.

As he makes his way towards her, Meg's head cranes up, her eyes going wide as she opens her mouth to call out to him a second too late. A click sounds beneath him, and suddenly his leg is in agony. He screams, dropping to the floor as the metal teeth of a bear trap clamp around his fragile leg. The bone has shattered, his leg twisted at an unnatural angle, and Meg cries out in horror at the sight.

It isn't long before the one who set the trap returns, his face hidden by a grotesquely grinning mask, and Michael thrashes wildly with his remaining limbs as the giant of a man hauls him up onto his shoulder. Michael meets Meg's eyes as he is taken away, and cannot help but scowl at her. After all, it's her fault that he stood in the trap. As the fog eclipses her form, he sees Dwight running to her aid.

The hook is just as painful as the last two times and he really doesn't know how he still has enough of a voice left to scream anymore. Gravity pulls down on the remains of his mangled leg, and he watches the silhouettes of his companions as they flit around the arena. One, who he imagines must be Claudette, is knelt down, probably repairing a machine, while the other two, Dwight and Meg, are secreted away in a corner while Dwight tends to Meg's wounds. Michael wonders if any of them will come for him... It's not like he's any help to them. He doesn't know how to fix the machines, and his short legs make him poorly suited for running away from the monsters that hound their every moment.

It is Dwight that proves him wrong, appearing out of the mist with a panicked expression to pull him from the hook just as Claudette seems to finish repairs on the machine. The young man pulls the boy over to the side, behind a tree and pulls out a dented med-kit.

“This is gonna hurt, but be brave okay?” Michael nods mutely, trying not to burst into tears again. _Big boys don't cry. Big boys don't cry._ He repeats over and over in his head, wishing his Daddy was there to chase the nasty monsters away, wishing his Mommy would come and kiss it all better.

It does hurt, and Michael has to bite down on his lip to prevent himself from crying out as Dwight re-aligns his bones. By the time his leg is bandaged, his lips is bleeding and he's shaking like a leaf.

It is only as Dwight puts away the gauze that Michael sees the prone silhouette in the distance. A few seconds later, Meg's scream rips through the air once more, though he finds himself caring less. It seems like this world is nothing but pain, and he's quickly losing hope of ever seeing the familiar white cladding of his home ever again. Dwight, however, looks over his shoulder at her hanging silhouette.

“Michael, I want you to find a locker and stay inside it, okay?” Dwight tells him. Michael nods, and Dwight is gone. He heaves a heavy sigh and, after checking the coast is clear, heads for the locker he'd hidden in before, slipping inside as another machine whirs to life. He likes Claudette; she got stuff done.

That only fuels his own self-deprecation though, as he remembers how utterly useless he is. All he'd done was cause more trouble for the adults... He wanted to be indignant about it; he is, after all, only a child... nobody could expect him to repair a generator or lift someone off a hook... But then why is he here? Whatever strange _thing_ had brought him here, it clearly wanted to torment the adults and make him suffer. For a moment, he thinks that maybe Judith had something to do with it, as some cruel ploy to get rid of him... No... Judith loves him... right? She wouldn't...

He is broken from his spiralling thoughts by a squawk. Curious, and forgetting briefly the danger he is in, Michael pushes the locker door open to see that a bird has perched itself atop his hiding place. It lets out another squawk, and his eyes widen in horror; it's going to give away his hiding place!

He creeps out of the locker and slowly moves away, but the bird follows him, circling about his head and squawking every few seconds. Desperate to shake his un-wanted companion, Michael begins to run, sticking close to the wall as he does. He stops as a scream rings out across the woods again, this time masculine; Dwight. Michael tries to ignore the fear he feels and continues his attempt at escape, only to pause again as a new scream reaches his ears. The silhouette that appears is not lying down, instead they are knelt. His stomach lurches as he realises that whoever it is (most likely Claudette, since the scream wasn't familiar to him) just stepped in a bear trap.

His leg throbs horribly at the reminder, but he pushes onward, relief flooding him when the bird seems to vanish. A different kind of relief follows as he sees Dwight's glowing silhouette appear, realising that the hook he's on is far away from his current location. He immediately feels guilty though, for feeling relieved in any sense at someone else's pain.

He is therefore not relieved in the slightest at the realisation that Claudette has yet to free herself from the bear trap, and is in fact terribly close to the hook Dwight now hands from. Michael watches helplessly as her silhouette is hoisted from the ground and vanishes for a moment before she too is hooked.

He wraps his arms around himself and follows the wall further along, no longer wishing to stay still lest another bird try to alert the Trapper to his position.

He quickly recognises a familiar ginger woman hunched before a machine nearby though. He hesitates, not sure if he wants to approach her, when she stands from the contraption and notices him as she begins to head for the two glowing hooks. “Michael!” She sounds relieved. “You should hide... If...” She hesitates. “If we all get sacrificed... You need to look for a hatch, okay?” She doesn't seem to care much about being 'sacrificed', which Michael can't understand... He's only experienced it once, and while he doesn't know what it actually entails, the aftermath was unpleasant. Her hand rests on his shoulder. “Please, Michael. We're grown-ups. We can handle it. You shouldn't have to go through these things, though...” He feels indignation rise in him. Sure, he's small and maybe he can't help, but he's not a weakling!

He doubts himself though as Meg darts away. All he's done this whole time is cry and scream. His shoulders sag, and he slumps down next to the machine. He never asked for this... _Why can't I just go home?_ He wipes the tears from his eyes before they can fall.

It is only moments later that Meg's familiar cry of pain reaches his ears again, and this time he doesn't even flinch. As she is hooked, Dwight's silhouette raises into the blackened sky with a loud 'BOOM', and Michael realises he'll soon be alone. There's no way he'd ever manage to pull Meg or Claudette from the hooks, and he wonders why he ever thought he could before.

He pushes himself to his feet, wobbling slightly as pain lances through his broken leg, and turns his gaze away from the struggling silhouettes just as another 'BOOM' echoes out and Meg is taken away as well.

His feet drag as he traverses the dark forest, heading for the foundry as it's the most likely place, he thinks at least, that a hatch might be. He hardly registers the third 'BOOM', but he does register the way his heart begins to thump in his ears. He looks up and meets the glowing eyes of the killer, his stomach turning over as a shiver runs down his spine. He turns on his heel and runs, ignoring the burning pain that courses through his leg as best as he can.

That's when he sees it, in the distance, and hears it too. An unearthly sound pulls him towards the dark smog rising from the ground, and he somehow knows it is the hatch Meg told him about. He pushes his body as fast as it can go, fearing he won't make it as the red glow appears at his feet.

The Trapper swings his cleaver and misses, giving Michael the precious seconds he needs to jump into the waiting darkness.

He feels like he's falling forever, black tendrils keeping his body suspended in the air as the smog seeps into his lungs until suddenly he's on the ground again, in the familiar forest. For a while, he just lies still and listens to to incoherent whispers of the fog, which seem to be a little less incoherent this time around. Every so often he hears them whisper his name, though he can't make out any other words.

Eventually though, he stands and makes his way through the dense foliage, following the whispers through the trees until the campfire comes into view.

This time, only one person is sat there. He quickly recognises that it is Claudette. She turns at the sound of the rustling leaves and regards him with undisguised worry. “Michael... Did you get away?” He nods, not that he feels much better for avoiding the 'sacrifice'. Still, Claudette breathes a sigh of relief. “I'm glad. Come on, sit down. We might be here a while.” He tilts his head in confusion, but obeys, sitting beside her and staring into the fire. “I was the last to be sacrificed, and we usually seem to find our way back to the campfire in order, so Dwight and Meg must already be in another game if they aren't here.” Michael doesn't react. Claudette bites her lip. “Are you doing okay?” at the question, he looks down to his leg, the one that broke in the last 'game'. It isn't broken anymore, he doesn't feel any pain and the bandages Dwight wrapped it with are gone, though the damage to his costume remains.

He nods that he is fine, his gaze returning to the flickering flames. Claudette falls silent. He doesn't try to keep track of how long they sit there, awkward silence consuming them, he doesn't see the point. Before long, two people with stumble out of the forest and they'll be flung into another 'game'. He doesn't entirely feel afraid anymore, he doesn't really see the point. No matter how he feels, the monsters will still chase him and hang him, he'll still hear the screams of the others, he'll still feel the pain.

Soon enough, rustling comes from behind him, and two people enter the clearing at once. One, he doesn't recognise, the other is Dwight.

“Hey Claudette.” The new man greets, before he notices Michael and freezes. The child refrains from rolling his eyes at the stunned expression on the newcomer's face. He opens his mouth to introduce himself, but cannot seem to get any words out.

“Hey Jake. This is Michael.” Claudette says. Dwight has already moved towards the boy.

“Hey Mikey. You okay?” Michael tries not to cringe at the nickname, thankful for the numbness that has settled over him. “Buddy?” _I'm not your buddy..._ he thinks bitterly. _Having friends here is a bad idea._ They'll only get hurt, after all. Michael tries to say as much, but still no sound comes out of his mouth. “Claudette... is he alright?”

“I don't know. He hasn't said a word since he got here...”

Michael scowls. _I'm right here, you know._

“You guys seen Benedict lately?” Jake catches their attention, and the two exchange a look.

“No... Not for two games now.”

“Wait... he wasn't with you guys and Meg just now?”

“No, it was a new girl. Her name's Nea.” Dwight explains. “You don't think...?”

“No... Benedict wouldn't lose hope...” Even as she says it, Claudette sounds unsure. As if to echo her statement, the fire begins to splutter again.

“We can't have a few minutes to chill out, can we?” Jake grumbles, just before the smoke billows out of the flames and engulfs them once more.

When it clears, Michael takes in his surroundings. He is stood next to a pile of twisted metal on one side and a small, ramshackle, metal building on the other. Knowing it is only a matter of time before the killer finds him, he enters the shack with more curiosity than caution.

A generator sits in the middle of the small building, next to a set of stairs leading down. Michael is surprised to recognise the sounds of the whispers drifting to his ears, seeming to come from the stairs. They call to him, drawing him in. He heeds their call and carefully descends the stairs.

The stench that hits him as he reaches the bottom is nearly overwhelming, but it is metallic and familiar; the smell of blood. In the center of the room stand four hooks, and they seem so much more robust than those he's come across so far. He can't help himself, he walks over and touches the structure. As his small hand comes into contact with the central column, the whispers grow loud in his ears and he pulls his hand away as though burned. _You shouldn't be here._ They tell him. _Leave, little one. This place is for meat._

He staggers back and hurries back up the stairs only to come face-to-face with Dwight as he creeps in through the door.

“Michael!” He whispers, panicked. “What were you doing down there? It's not safe.” He looks behind him frantically. “We can't stay here.” Before Michael can even try to reply, Dwight has his hand on the boy's shoulder and is steering him around to the other door. Something makes him freeze though. There is some kind of shimmer in the doorway. Michael can't move as the chiming of a bell rings out and the shimmering coalesces into a tall, thin figure. “Philip...”

Michael's eyes widen. This is the man old Benedict had been telling Dwight and Meg about when he first arrived. The man that became a monster. He doesn't look human any more, nor does his breathing sound normal. It is instead a disturbing, croaking growl that forces its way out of the creature's throat. Michael is oddly entranced, but Dwight does not allow him to watch the killer for long, grabbing his hand and pulling him from the shack, pausing briefly to slam down a set of pallets that had been resting in the doorway.

The young man dashes through the maze of broken metal, dragging Michael along as he goes, but Michael can't keep up. Once again, he finds his legs barely hitting the ground, and he wonders why Dwight is trying so hard... It isn't as if Michael is going to get away.

So he lets go of the man's hand. Dwight lurches around, horrified. “Michael, come on!” He looks above the boy and balks, diving forward to shield his body with his own. He cries out in pain, but all Michael can do is tilt his head. He feels too numb to do anything else. He wants to tell Dwight to leave him, that trying to save him is pointless, but he can't form the words. So he just stares as Dwight falls to the ground, blood pouring from his fresh wounds.

The monster looks at Michael, breathing heavily, his glowing eyes seeming to stare straight into his broken soul. He seems to make a decision, and leaves Dwight, lunging straight for the child.

He feels the pain, but no sound leaves his lips. He looks down at the gaping wound in his chest, watching enthralled as the blood trickled down his stomach, then feels an impact on his head. He falls level with Dwight, their eyes meeting.

“Michael... have you already... lost hope...?” Dwight whispers. Michael doesn't know what to say. Dwight clearly doesn't want his honest answer. So he doesn't react as the monster picks up his small body and carries him back to the shack, down the stairs and slings him onto one of the hooks. With another ring of his bell, Philip vanishes, and within a minute, Dwight is being carried down the stairs as well.

His familiar scream lances through Michael's head, but it doesn't distract him from the whispers building in his ears.

_Broken... Hopeless... Weak... Empty..._ the words swirl around him, and he doesn't fight the claws as they appear before him. The last thing he sees is Claudette rounding the corner, her face horror stricken as she cries out his name.

His eyes open to see grass. When did he lie down? He doesn't know. All he knows is that he feels empty... So, so empty. For a while, he stays there, trying to remember why he's lying on the lawn.

Judith. Judith wouldn't take him treat-or-treating... So he came outside to avoid the noises. His chest hurts and so does his head, but he doesn't know why. But he can hear something... whispers...

_Her fault._ They say. _Her fault._ And suddenly all he can feel is anger, white hot and burning in his mind. This unknown pain is _her fault_.

He pushes himself up and stares through the window. There she is, sat on the couch with _him_ , the reason she refused to take Michael out trick-or-treating, the reason she disobeyed Mommy and Daddy.

She's giggling, and suddenly she follows him up the stairs. The noises will start soon, but Michael doesn't care about that. He just wants her to feel the pain he feels. _Make her pay_. The voices urge. _Make her hurt. Make her scream._

He heads for the back of the house, through the kitchen. He takes out Mommy's biggest knife and heads for the stairs just in time to see _him_ leaving. But he's not to one that left him alone. All he did was accept an invitation. _Her fault_. The voices repeat. _Her fault._ Her fault that he feels empty, though he doesn't know why. Her fault that his chest and head hurt. Her fault the voices won't be quiet.

His mask is on the floor in his room, and he recalls that he took it off so it wouldn't get wet as he cried. He finds himself angry that he wasted tears on Judith and her stupid boyfriend.

There she is, combing her hair... His anger flairs. _You never even crossed her mind._ The voices tell him, not that they need to. _She's selfish. Her fault. Her fault. HER FAULT._

He raises the knife and she turns to him, first indignant, then an oddly familiar expression crosses her face. He doesn't know where he's seen that fear before, but he knows it well. He almost smiles, glad he can make her feel that fear, and then he's stabbing her, and the voices quiet, satisfied that he's taken his revenge.

When his parents arrive home, he's stood outside, feeling empty again. The voices have already begun to swirl in his head, but now they don't speak anything coherent. None of their words sound like any language he's heard before, and it's hurting his head.

It isn't long before he's locked in a cell, staring blankly at the wall as the voices taunt him. Cynthia is brought to visit him once, and he almost attacks her. If the voices were quiet when he attacked Judith, maybe they'd stop if he killed her too... But he's under constant watch, and he doesn't have a weapon. One day, he promises himself. One day he'll make the voices stop.

The man that talks to him every day reminds him of someone he can't place, with his grey hair and his silly book. He scribbles in it a lot, and sometimes Michael thinks he sees the flicker of a flame in his eyes, but he doesn't know why. He doesn't like the man, when he's around the voices get louder.

His opportunity doesn't arrive for fifteen years. He's been counting the days. The voices are loud that day, telling him what to do. He releases everyone that he can, and in the chaos the voices lead him to the car that the man with the book drove there in.

When he sits behind the wheel, the voices tell him what to do; what pedals to press and when, and soon he's back home, comfortably behind a mask and jumpsuit, so similar and yet do different to his clown costume from that night.

He sees her then, and recognises her instantly, though she goes by a new name. _Laurie._ The voices repeat it to him over and over. He follows her, notes her two friends, and the voices claim they're in the way. He is inclined to agree. So he targets them first. The blond one reminds him of Judith, her focus on a boy, her hair long and blonde... He hopes to ignite recognition in his baby sister's eyes by placing her corpse with Judith's gravestone, but it seems like she's blocked the memories of her older siblings from her mind. It's a shame he can't think of any other way to communicate it to her.

The voices quiet a little with each life he takes, and it lights hope in his chest that if he kills Cynthia, they'll stop for good. But that stupid man comes in and saves her. He shoots Michael in the chest. The pain is familiar, memories try to surface as he finds himself falling and hitting the lawn.

He's only there for a moment though, before the voices seem to rapidly grow in volume and quantity, and suddenly he feels familiar fog wrap around him. It seeps through the gaps in his mask and burns his lungs, but he can feel it healing the bullet-wounds and before he can question why it feels so familiar, he's in front of his old house.

But something is different, and memories come flooding back to him as his eyes settle on a hook. Screams echo in his mind, names return unbidden to his long-mute lips. _Meg. Dwight. Jake. Claudette. Nea. Benedict._

The voices are clearer now, and he realises that this is their origin. He remembers first hearing them, in that old forest near the camp-fire. Now, though, they are crystal clear in his ears.

_Catch meat. Sacrifice meat. Appease The Entity._

Meat, he recognises the word. They said it once before, when he'd found the basement. Meat is what the voices call those like Dwight. Those with hope. He wonders...

He can see the outlines of the familiar machines, glowing stark in the dark night, and he moves for one. He pauses, noticing someone crouched by it, and they begin to glow white. The voices build in intensity as he stares, when suddenly the figure turns and sees him. He recognises her face.

_Meg_.

An anger burns inside him. He remembers her. She left him to suffer. Well... now the playing field in different, isn't it? She can tell, because she bolts.

He soon catches up to her, elation coursing through him as she falls to the ground. He rejoices as he hoists her onto his shoulder and carries her to a hook. The voices praise him, but urge him onwards. _Do not waste precious time! Find the otherssss! Quickly! The Entity is pleased! Kill more meat!_

It isn't long until he comes across her, scared and confused, but she recognises him instantly. Laurie runs, but she doesn't know the world of the entity like he does, and he has no trouble catching her.

Both girls are rescued shortly after, and the voices cry out in anger. It takes him a while to find them, but eventually he sees two figures, one bandaging up the other. He watches them, liistening to their hushed voices.

“You'll get used to this place. That guy's new though.” Michael recognises the voice. _Dwight._

“I think he followed me...” Laurie whispers.

“What do you know about him?” Dwight is more confident that Michael remembers, though he did seem to have a knack for leadership.

“His name is Michael... He killed his sister 15 years ago... Um...” Laurie pauses. “He was stalking me for ages, he killed my friends...”

Dwight has gone still. “Michael...? You said his name was Michael?”

“Yeah...?”

“What was his sister's name...?”

“Um... J-judith?” She remembers the tomb-stone, shuddering at the memory of it next to Linda's corpse.

“No...” Dwight has gone paler than before, and Michael takes no small amount of pleasure as he watches the pieces line up in the man's head.

“What's wrong?”

“I remember Michael... he... he was brought here... He was like us...” Laurie's eyes widen. “He was only six... It's no wonder he...” Dwight turns slightly and stiffens, before he looks up and meets the black voids where Michael's eyes are. “Michael...” His voice cracks, not with fear, and the killer tightens his grip on his knife in anger. Dwight is pitying him. _How dare he._ The voices cry. _He's weak, nothing but meat. You're strong._

Dwight does not move as Michael stalks towards him, and his anger grows with each step. “Michael, it's me... Don't you remember me...? We were buddies...”

_We were never 'buddies'._ Michael thinks as he raises the knife high and plunges it into Dwight's chest.

 


End file.
